“Sweet baby Jesus, stop. No. Just no. You can’t be hobbitish in a good way. No one wants to fuck Frodo. Could you imagine screaming Harder, Baggins, harder!”

She makes crazy sex noises, moaning and slapping her desk à la Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally. I’m desperate to hold back my smile, but I can’t. The second she sees me cracking, she goes full tilt.

“Oh, your feet are so big and hairy. Give it to me, baby! Take me to Mordor. Destroy that ring!” We both burst out laughing. I laugh until my sides hurt and my eyes are watering.

“My precious! My precious!” Jackie finishes with a flourish, leans back in her chair and smokes an imaginary post-coital cigarette. “So, what happened? Did you show him your hobbit hole?”

“Not exactly.”

Jackie knows me well enough to hear the embarrassment in my voice. And, in true Jackie style, she calls me on it.

“Lizzy, what did you do?” She uses the nickname she knows I hate just to be a brat. Like I’m the family dog that got into the trash. She’s disappointed, a twinge angry maybe, but in no way surprised.

This isn’t my first colossal disaster of a date. Epic failure is kind of my thing.

“I-I…” I stutter, thinking of how to explain. “I might have told him I was gassy.” I hide my face in my hands, sure I’m turning redder than Jackie’s hair. She’s still laughing when I finally peek through my fingers. Keeled over in hysterics, she nearly falls off her chair. Luckily, almost cracking her head open sobers her a bit.

With a few deep breaths, she composes herself. “What, and hobbits aren’t into that? Guess you won’t be hearing from him again any time soon.”

“Seriously, Jackie, what’s wrong with me?”

“So many things, my child. So very many things.”

“I’m serious. We had so much in common. We spent two hours debating AMD versus Nvidia.”

“Oh, gee. Graphics cards. What a panty dropper.”

“I thought he was perfect. Respectful. Sweet. Mild-mannered—” Jackie’s obnoxious fake snore interrupts me. “And even with him, I freak out and ruin it! Why am I so pathetic?” I drag my fingers through my hair and tug at the roots until it almost hurts.

“You’re not pathetic,” Jackie assures me, albeit with derision and frustration in her voice. “You spent six months building this spectacularly boring guy up in your head and you’re surprised when he comes up short? Pun intended.”

“Why can’t I meet a nice guy and not freak out when it comes to the physical stuff? I can’t even kiss a guy.” I bang my head on my desk in classic toddler-meltdown fashion.

“Darling, sweetie, beautiful, light of my life, you know I love you, right? I mean in the strictly BFF way. I don’t do Taco Tuesday.”

“I love you too. And, eww.”

“Lizbit, listen to your momma Jackie. You don’t need a nice guy. You need a sexy filthy man who won’t just pop your cherry—he’ll obliterate it. You need to get fucked. Then it won’t seem like a big deal.”